


Beneath The Sky Shall Be Our Bed

by kookaburrito



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Sexual Tension, Smut, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kookaburrito/pseuds/kookaburrito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that Legolas is head over heels for Gimli. Even though in denial, Gimli deep down knows it too. What he doesn't know is: can an elf truly love a dwarf?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath The Sky Shall Be Our Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witivisi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=witivisi).



> Title shamelessly taken from the poem Over the Misty Mountains Cold by J. R. R. Tolkien

“Legolas, what is this?”

“I made it for you, for I saw beauty in the way you looked at the far away mountains. The peaceful expression on your face was that of true grace.”

“Gimli son of Gloin will never wear a goddamn flowery crown,” Gimli shouted, shaking the delicate crown of dried leaves and pressed flowers so hard, the careful work of Legolas was no doubt going to fall to pieces.

Legolas continued to smile with an air of serenity, not a single muscle moving on his face.

“Never!” Gimli emphasized again, about to throw the crown of flowers to the ground. But at the very last moment Legolas raised an eyebrow, and Gimli stopped at once.

Legolas bit his lower lip to keep from grinning too wide.

“Never,” Gimli said a lot more faintly, and carefully put the flowery crown on a bush nearby, without the previous violence but with underlined firmness, then walked away muttering almost indecipherably, “What does he think he’s doing, that elf…”

 _He will come around_ Legolas thought, picking up the refused gift in hands. _Oh, he so will._

* * *

“Thank you, Legolas,” Gimli gritted through his teeth.

“I’m sorry?” Legolas said, brows furrowing just slightly. Of course he had heard perfectly, but teasing Gimli has recently become his favorite pastime. Who knew dwarves could be so cute?

“I said thank you, Legolas! And you should bloody listen, I will not repeat it anymore,” Gimli stepped away from Legolas, and took his beard in his own hands. It was mostly untangled now, and Gimli couldn’t deny that Legolas had a truly amazing skill of untying knots.

After all, today’s run from the orcs through the thorny bushes was certainly not favorable for the state of Gimli’s beard, and before Legolas came to the rescue, Gimli couldn’t even find his eyes under the chaotic mess that became his facial hair. Gimli was surprised how Legolas’ fingers, so long and lean, could help Gimli quite literally see the light in such a short time.

Sliding a hand through the thick red wavy hair, Gimli puffed in satisfaction. It seemed that these elves could be good at some useful things. He could give them that.

“Gimli,” Legolas grinned, shaking Gimli out of his thoughts, “I speak from my heart when I say that your beard is of an exceptional softness…” with a strategic pause Legolas enjoyed for a moment the way that what was seen of Gimli’s face became as red as his hair, “But I think you still have thorns in your hair that need to be picked out.”

Groaning about something under his breath, Gimli stepped closer to Legolas, perhaps a little too fast for someone who was truly opposed. And if Legolas brushed Gimli’s hair a little longer than necessary, Gimli didn’t say anything about it.

* * *

“What is he doing, really?”

“Who?”

“Legolas.”

Gandalf took out his pipe for a second, puffing out a perfectly round smoke ring. He and Aragorn both looked over to a big apple tree and the figure of Legolas standing a few feet away, with a bow in hand. He has already hit what seemed like half a dozen apples, which all fell on the ground transfixed by his arrows. Gimli was over underneath the branches too, waving an axe and jumping up, but his height didn’t let him get to the apples, not even those which were hanging lower than the rest. He was undoubtedly swearing like a sailor, but the curse words were all muffled by the cheerful laugh of Legolas.

“Love works in mysterious ways,” Gandalf shrugged, returning his attention to the pipe.

“But Gimli…” Aragorn looked too uncomfortable to finish the phrase. _But Gimli wasn’t exactly love material. But Gimli was a dwarf, hardly a romantic race. But Gimli wasn’t as beautiful as Legolas._

Aragorn looked down, shaking his head. Falling in love with an elf, what could be easier? But falling in love with a dwarf, it seemed to Aragorn if not impossible, then absolutely insane.

“Legolas, bless his soul, has always been fascinated by uncommon types of beauty,” Gandalf said, a little reprimand towards Aragorn could be heard in his tone of voice.

“I can’t say that I understand or approve this union…” Aragorn began, trying to envelop in words how he really felt about it.

“Then it’s fortunate that you have no saying in it,” Gandalf interrupted him, puffing out another smoke ring and looking over to the way Legolas was cutting up an apple and sharing it with Gimli, who finally took a piece with apparent reluctance.

* * *

“Legolas! Congratulations!”

“What a great catch!”

“That must’ve been tough!”

Legolas and Gimli were standing, surrounded almost by everyone in the campsite, a killed boar lying beneath their feet with an arrow sticking out of its neck.

“Yes, Gimli was very brave,” Legolas said, gently placing a hand on Gimli’s shoulder.

“But… there is an arrow in its neck?”

“An arrow cannot kill a boar, I shot it by reflex. It was running towards me, and if Gimli hadn’t swiftly attacked it with his axe, I could have been dead,” Legolas explained, unmasked pride and gratefulness could be heard in his tone of voice.

His speech was greeted with a low, unappreciative murmur from the elves. Though everyone seemed excited that there was finally going to be boar meat for dinner, no one complimented Gimli on his use of axe.

Legolas seemed taken aback, but Gimli sighed, lifting up his axe and turning to leave. Until suddenly Merry and Pippin came running towards them.

“Wow, this boar is huge! I would have certainly run away and climbed a tree instead of fighting it! Gimli, you sure are very brave!” Pippin immediately rushed to say, while Merry took a few steps beside it to approximately measure the length of the beast.

“Gimli is a true warrior,” Legolas said proudly, thankful for the little hobbit’s words, “He’s strong and fearless, not to say selfless like no dwarf I’ve ever met before.”

“It was nothing,” Gimli said seriously, stroking his beard, “I would do anything to protect my…”

He stopped suddenly, and though the hobbits were already poking at the animal’s ears and not paying attention to them, Gimli seemed visibly flustered. He didn’t look at Legolas when he uttered, “To protect my friends.”

Picking up his axe, Gimli briskly walked away, not even turning to see Legolas’ reaction. If he did, he would’ve seen a warm secret smile hidden in the corner of Legolas’ mouth.

* * *

The bonfire was slowly growing dimmer, and most of the participants were either drunkenly singing old ballads, or already fast asleep.

Gimli didn’t remember how he got there, but his head was laying in Legolas’ lap. And damn, it was so comfortable! The material of his tunic was soft and delicate, and there was that pleasant elfish smell, of pine trees and honeysuckles. And though Gimli’s eyelids were heavy, he was still singing under his breath, although completely missing the tune and mixing up the words a little bit, and drooling on Legolas in the process.

_“With foes ahead, behind us dread,_

_Beneath the sky shall be our bed,_

_Until at last our toil be passed,_

_Our journey done, our errand sped.”_

Legolas chuckled lightly, his fingers playing with Gimli’s locks. He wasn’t drunk at all, and an idea was already crystalizing in his mind. Surely, Gimli would be furious the next day, but passing up such an opportunity would be absolutely terrible.

Making a decision, Legolas slipped his fingers in Gimli’s hair and began massaging his scalp, just gently, with circular motions.

“Oh merciful gods, this feels too good,” Gimli was almost purring.

“Beautiful,” Legolas whispered under his breath, not sure if Gimli heard him.

One by one he started grouping locks, and tangling them, his fingers working meticulously to adorn Gimli’s head with thousands of braids, some thick, some not, intertwining and placing them to form a really beautiful hairstyle.

By the time he was done, Gimli was already fast asleep, and snoring a little bit.

* * *

“Why did you do it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone’s making fun of me,” Gimli cried out, stomping on a tree branch and breaking it in half, “Don’t play dumb! Like you don’t know of the tradition!”

Legolas furrowed his eyebrows and pretended to look at something that was far away, somewhere over at the horizon, as if trying to remember.

“The dwarf tradition, that the husband braids the wives’ hair and beard after their wedding night!”

“If that’s what you want it to be, so be it,” Legolas shrugged, continuing to polish his arrow.

“Why? Why do you always do that?! Do you like it when everyone laughs at me? Your people already hate me because I’m a dwarf, do you like making my people hate me too? Is that why you’re doing all… all of this?!”

“Gimli, you know that’s not true,” Legolas said very soflty, almost inaudibly, still devoting all of his attention to the arrow. A single note of heartbreak was present in his voice.

“Ughh!” Gimli shouted, his hands curled into fists, and stormed off in the direction of the village.

* * *

The sun was quickly setting over the horizon, painting the sky with red and yellow brushes before the fall of darkness. Legolas pretended not to see Gimli in the corner of his eye. He approached the rocks, stopped, saw Legolas, wanted to go away, then grunted something to himself and came closer to the hot spring where Legolas was resting, immersed up to his belly button in the water. Gimli side-stepped near the rocks for a good minute, then took off his clothes and placed his belongings near a rock, then climbed in to sit in the water near Legolas. He sat as far away as possible. Apparently, he was still in a bad mood because of yesterday’s hair-braiding misunderstanding. Legolas didn’t say anything.

“Legolas.”

“Yes?”

The tension was almost sparkling. Legolas held his breath in anticipation. He tried to remain calm but his heart was thumping. He was very aware of the gurgling water, of the rocks, of his own naked body in the hot spring, of Gimli sitting on the other end of it, of his strong body, of the rise and fall of his chest.

“Why do you always say those things to me?”

“What things?” Legolas turned to look at Gimli, deliberately starting at him with an unblinking gaze.

“You know,” Gimli blushed under his beard, then muttered, “That I’m, uhm, beautiful and strong and all that.”

“Because you are.”

“But I’m a dwarf.”

“So what?”

Gimli didn’t say anything. Legolas knew what he was thinking. There were only five dwarves on this expedition and thirty elves. He knew how prejudiced his own folk were, and his heart ached, thinking that their spiteful comments could even get under the iron wall of Gimli’s self-consciousness. He has liked Gimli for a long time, ever since he got to know him closer during the time they were traveling together with the Fellowship of the ring. But during this expedition Legolas understood with each passing day that now everything felt different, deeper, as he fell completely, irrevocably in love.

“Let me show you,” his usually normal tone of voice was now breathless.

Gimli raised his head to look into Legolas’ eyes, which were full of lust, black wide pupils piercing right into him.

“I want to show you how much I feel for you Gimli,” Legolas said, scooting closer to him in the hot water, “Can I?”

Gimli didn’t say anything, but his chest was heaving. He stared Legolas in the eyes, and then his gaze fell down to his lips, and he licked his own involuntarily. _Gimli has no idea how seductive he actually is_ , Legolas thought, his hands already shaking.

Legolas carefully brought his hand to Gimli’s chest and touched him gently.

“Your body is so muscular and your arms, merciful gods,” he was whispering, a beautiful mix of elfish elegance and uncontrollable passion.

Gimli breathed in, feeling Legolas’ delicate hands getting bolder, rubbing at his skin, at his collarbone, at his nipples, which were getting harder. His blood was rushing south, he felt himself getting dizzy.

“And you’re so little I could carry you in my pocket,” Legolas smirked devilishly.

“Hey!”

Legolas leaned down and whispered right into Gimli’s ear, “…But at the same time you’re so strong, stronger than anyone I know. You could probably bend me in half and take me right here.”

He brought his hand to Gimli’s neck and pushed him roughly against himself, finally clashing their mouths together, feeling Gimli’s hot breath and desperate noises as he kissed back with all his force. The water splashed around them, but neither cared. Finally Legolas was sure that Gimli wanted him too, needed him like he needed Gimli. The beard tickled at Legolas’ smooth cheeks. Gimli finally brought a hand to Legolas’ long neck and touched him with his rough wet hand, stroking up and down, making Legolas’ toes curl. He broke the kiss and leaned to lick at that neck, teeth grazing the alabaster elfish skin, hands stroking the pointed ears.

“Ah, so good… they’re sensitive,” Legolas moaned, losing control, feeling himself getting completely hard in the hot water.

Gimli’s hands reached to stroke down his back, at his hips and thighs underwater, arms, chest, getting frantic and insistent, as if he was trying to touch every inch of Legolas’ skin, as if he didn’t believe he was real and there and wanting him.

“I want, like this,” Legolas said brokenly, pushing himself up and bringing a leg to Gimli’s other side, in one swift move sitting himself on top of Gimli’s lap. They both gasped at the contact of their hard erect cocks, bumping at each other in the swirling water.

“Oh, gods,” Gimli grunted, and reached to lick at Legolas’ nipple, which was now right there in front of him, a hard peak begging to be sucked.

Legolas threw his head back and began softly rocking in Gimli’s lap, pushing against the water pressure too. He loved his nipples getting teased, sometimes he thought he could come just from that. But what would be the fun in that? They have so much to do to make up for lost time. Legolas smirked and regained some of his cool.

“You like it, yeah?” he reached his hand down, down in the hot water and grabbed Gimli’s flushed cock, “You’re so big and thick. Love your cock so much.”

“Fuuuck,” Gimli grunted, his hips pushing his cock into the tight heat of Legolas’ hand.

“Oh right, you want that? Wanna fuck me?” Legolas continued teasing him, stroking him gently up and down, “Or you want me to fuck you?”. The water made his movements unfocused and light and absolutely not enough. GImli’s face was that of true pleasure, and Legolas was watching him closely, loved how the droplets of water and sweat rolled down his hairy skin. It was too much for him, everything was happening so fast so good, and Legolas felt fire gathering in the pit of his stomach.

He shifted and took ahold of both of their cocks, more firmly.

“Would you let me fuck you here, huh, Gimli? You’re so hot, so strong. Does it excite you that someone might see us now, might see you so desperate for me?” a stream of dirty talk was tumbling down Legolas’ mouth, so dirty that both of their dicks were throbbing in Legolas’ hand.

At that, Gimli reached up and kissed Legolas deep and wanting, licking into his mouth, tasting his elfish tongue and feeling the weight of it against his own. He has never been kissed like this, never been touched quite so hotly, and both of their hips were thrusting erratically in the water, begging for some friction, for some release. Gimli’s hands came down to cup the cheeks of Legolas’ ass and push him closer, faster, harder. With a desperate sound, Legolas was coming, spurts of hot white liquid mixing with the water of the hot spring, and Gimli followed soon, moaning so loud everyone in the campsite probably knew what they were doing.

Afterwards, they both were still breathing hard, as Legolas got up from Gimli and sat beside him, lying his head on Gimli’s shoulder from sheer exhaustion. The land was already dark, and there were only the lights of their two lanterns illuminating their blissful faces.

“Legolas,” Gimli said so quietly Legolas barely heard him through the sound of the water and their own breathing.

“Yes?”

“ _Gi melin_ , Legolas.”

A million thoughts rushed through Legolas’ mind, from surprise that Gimli knows anything in Elvish, to heart-clenching gratefulness to overwhelming affection. He stroked a hand down Gimli’s beard, tangling his fingers in the curls.

“I love you too.”


End file.
